


Fever Dream

by Puck_Monger_99



Series: Window Shopping [1]
Category: Hockey RPF
Genre: Dallas Stars, Other
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-02-13
Updated: 2015-02-13
Packaged: 2018-03-12 08:23:28
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 381
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/3349919
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Puck_Monger_99/pseuds/Puck_Monger_99
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>They always said eyes were the windows to the soul.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Fever Dream

**Author's Note:**

> Prayers for the players injured in the game against the Panthers. For those who don't know, Patrick Eaves was taken to the hospital after he was hit in the head with a puck.
> 
> This is fiction, and in no way is it meant to be offensive.

Patrick's head ached, jaw throbbing a tempo murderously fast against the stark contrast of the near empty locker room. He wanted to die, or at the very least crawl into a hole and sleep for a few years. Tyler Seguin was opposite him, sitting with some thermal pack against his hip. 

Patrick eyed him exhaustedly, noting the pale complexion of his teammate, the dilated pupils, trembling hands, and the parted, chapped lips taking in ragged breaths like they were the last he'd ever get.

If it weren't for the angry beat being kept his mind, Patrick would have appreciated the picture of such a handsome man wrecked beyond recognition. It wasn't that he wished ill-will on his friends or peers, he just...enjoyed the scene. You could say he got off on it. But the normalcy of his arousal was clouded by the hazy (and cynically comical) notion that he was the Batman. 

Tyler caught him scrutinizing, physically refraining from saying something to him. He only bit his lip, and continued to stare back.

Dammit, Patrick cursed, words echoing painfully across the room, even though he didn't verbalize it. The rest of his senses were obstructed by the thump thump thump rattling around in his skull. Tyler's face grew concerned, distantly of course, but Patrick just closed his eyes, imagining a fantasy with bodies beneath cheap, hotel sheets, rubbing together to keep warm. 

As his grip on reality slipped, the trainers that never actually left the room swarmed him again, lifting him, guiding him. He was on a stretcher, probably about to be shipped off to a hospital, and he forced his heavy eyelids to stay open long enough so Tyler could find his gaze again. 

He did.

Those brown eyes were swimming with worry and sharp alertness. They held an intelligent comprehension, the kind you would find amongst geniuses and prodigies. Tyler knew of those things people ponder on, things like attraction and manipulative sex appeal. Even a dim cruelty filtered through the rest of the emotions lighting up his face like fireworks. Patrick suddenly felt apprehensive. Of what, he wasn't entirely sure. But it was obvious as he was carted out of the room that the face of Tyler Seguin was hiding things from the world.

Frightening things, even.


End file.
